TNT Doesn't Cause Mushroom Clouds
by Darkfire359
Summary: Double fic. First, Mohinder finds out that Sylar sings his Christmas carols a little differently than normal people. Then, Mohinder has a secret admirer, and quests to find out who it is.
1. Sylar's Christmas Carols

Authors Note: This was originally going to be two separate fics, but I figured they were too interconnected. So now this is a double-fic.

Mohinder needed to borrow a cup of sugar. But he was too shy to ask his neighbors, whom he barely knew. And he had just gone to the grocery store. He also didn't want the other professors to mock him. To top it off, he hadn't had his coffee yet. Which meant he wasn't quite thinking clearly. So in a brief decision he wouldn't understand later, Mohinder decided to borrow the sugar from Sylar.

Sylar actually only lived a few blocks away from him. Before, Mohinder would have been terrified. But he and the other heroes (Peter, Nathan, Hiro, Ando, Angela, Matt, and Claire) had made a sort of peace treaty with Sylar; both sides would stop trying to kill each other. Included in this treaty was that the heroes would not try to prevent Sylar from his killings, and Sylar would stop trying to take over/destroy the world.

The heroes had mostly done this because since Sylar's acquisition of shape shifting, he was essentially impossible to kill. After all, hundreds of thousands of people died every day, and in a busy week, Sylar might kill one. Mohinder was also pretty sure that Sylar knew the treaty was out of resignation. But he had already attacked Claire, and he really didn't need Mohinder, Peter, or Angela's ability. Hiro could always teleport away, and the geneticist had a sneaking suspicion that Sylar simply wanted easier targets for Nathan and Matt's abilities. So the treaty was no major loss for the serial killer either.

Personally, Mohinder found it a matter of tolerance. He tolerated Sylar the same way he tolerated people who ate beef. He didn't agree with their actions, but he put up with them.

Anyway, the geneticist was now knocking on Sylar's door, relatively content, which translated into meaning he actually wasn't afraid for his life. He rang the doorbell. There was no answer. Mildly upset at having walked all the way there fore nothing, he tried the doorknob.

He was apparently more than mildly upset, because Mohinder heard a crack, and realized he had broken the knob with his strength. Well, he wasn't going to turn back now, so Mohinder let himself in.

"Sylar?" he called, before being assaulted by the simultaneous ticking of the dozens of clocks in the apartment. Well. That wasn't weird at all.

The next thing that Mohinder heard was the sound of a shower running. He blushed. So that was why Sylar wasn't answering.

He crept towards the kitchen, really not wanting to encounter the serial killer in this state. Just as the geneticist was about to open a cupboard, he realized there was singing. And it was Sylar. And he was singing Christmas carols.

"Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way. Oh what fun, it is to be, cutting heads all day-ay." Wait a minute. Mohinder wasn't to into Christmas, but he was certain that the song didn't go like that.

"Deck the halls with TNT, fala lala la, lala la la. All the peo-ple try to flee, fala lala la, lala la la. Watch the mush-room cloud appear, fala lala la, lala la la. Now, the world bows down in fear, fala lala la, lala la la." Wow, that was really messed up. Did Sylar come up with that on the spot, or had he rehearsed it? Mohinder didn't know which one disturbed him more.

"Joy to the world, Sylar supreme. Now all, the peo-ple scream. For everyone is dy-ing, and I'm not even try-ing, so..." the singing broke off abruptly after Mohinder stepped on a rather squeaky floorboard. Uh oh.

Before he knew it, Mohinder was faced with an extremely annoyed serial killer. In a towel.

"Mohinder," he greeted, "I didn't have you pegged as the stalker type."

"I... I just want some sugar." Mohinder explained awkwardly.

"You want some sugar?" Sylar asked incredulously.

"Yeah." Then, seeing the serial killer's expression, he realized he had been misunderstood

"No, no, not like that," he clarified. Still, Mohinder couldn't stop his eyes from glancing at Sylar's shirtless chest. For a former nerd, he was really muscular. Even more so than Mohinder, who was the one with super-strength. Sylar saw the direction of Mohinder's gaze, and raised an eyebrow.

"So you walked six blocks through crowded New York sidewalks to borrow a cup of sugar?"

"I brought a lid," the Indian said meekly.

Mohinder wondered why he hadn't just asked the woman across the hall: Mary Lou, or Mary Ann, or whatever her name was. Then he recalled that the reason he hadn't visited her was because he didn't know her name.

"Fine," Sylar sighed, "first cupboard on the right of the refrigerator." Mohinder scurried over and procured the sugar he originally came for.

"I can assume you heard?" Sylar asked him. Mohinder nodded.

"I do have a wonderful singing voice, don't I?" the killer questioned.

"Um, yeah," Mohinder said. He felt that the best thing to do in this situation would be to just agree.

"You do realize that if you ever tell anyone, I will kill you?" Sylar confirmed, "And I will know if you tell someone. All I have to do is ask you." The Indian again nodded, fully aware of a certain lie-detection ability.

"I'll be leaving now. I, uh, kind of broke your door handle," Mohinder explained.

"Don't worry," Sylar assured him, giving a smile meant purely to creep Mohinder out, "I'm good at fixing things. How else do you think I keep these 62 clocks from driving me crazy?" Mohinder held back a comment that he was already crazy, and smiled in agreement. He quickly exited the room, closed the broken door, and briskly walked away.

Considering the circumstances, he felt it had been a successful visit. Mohinder was still alive, and he had his sugar. Only now, he had Deck the Halls stuck in his head. And the lyrics were Sylar-style.

"Deck the halls with TNT, fala lala la, lala la la. All the peo-ple try to flee, fala lala la, lala la la. Watch the mush-room cloud appear, fala lala la, lala la la. Now, the world bows down in fear, fala lala la, lala la la."

Wait a second... TNT doesn't cause mushroom clouds!

Author's Note...again: Did anyone notice Sylar's Spock moment? I couldn't resist putting it in. All the messed up lyrics actually do belong to me. I made them up when I was bored, and wanted to put them in a fic. And who better to sing evil music than Sylar? Also, for reading this far, here is a treat:

http: //www. youtube. com/ watch? v=gADsBeOrLgQ

Just take out the spaces. I don't know why you have to do this, but everyone else does it, and I'm scared of what happens if I don't. Also, I have recently noticed that I've seen a kind of similar idea before. I may or may not have taken the idea of Sylar in a towel from The Problematique, an extremely amazing author of Star Trek: 2009 fics. But I didn't mean to. I think the spocktacularness of her fic, For You I will Wake, just stayed in my head.


	2. Mohinder's Love Notes

Author's Note: This has a completely different plot than the first one. But it is hard to understand this without it. And just a warning, there is severe bashing of... someone. I can't reveal who it is. They are rather OOC as well. So if you have problems with character bashing in general, don't read this. But in my opinion, they completely deserve it.

Mohinder opened his apartment door, ready to go to work. However he saw a note taped to the front of it. A heart shaped note.  
_  
Your smile could light up  
A cloudy day,  
Your eyes are more lovely  
Than a flower bouquet._

It was signed anonymously, and decorated with pink and white hearts on red construction paper. Mohinder honestly didn't know what to do with it. He'd never had a secret admirer before.

Unfortunately, there wasn't anything he could do about it. He still had to go to work. The Indian sighed, stuck the love letter in his pocket, and began a very long day.

-----

Finally! Mohinder had just finished teaching the last class of the day. He pulled out the note again. Hmm. The lines didn't give him much to go off of.

However, Mohinder was determined to uncover who it was from. Then an idea struck him. Jeanette Riverdale, a fellow professor, was a self-proclaimed handwriting specialist. Perhaps she could identify it, if it was someone from the university.

Plan in mind, Mohinder nearly ran all the way to her classroom. But he didn't run, as it would have set a poor example for the students. He opened Ms. Riverdale's door, and found her poring over English reports.

"Dr. Suresh," she greeted, "how nice to see you."

"Hello Mrs. Riverdale," he returned politely, "didn't you say that you were a handwriting analyst?"

"That is correct. I assume this is the purpose behind your visit?"

"Right. I was wondering if you could identify the handwriting on this note that... my friend received."

"Of course," she said slyly, taking the colorful card. The English teacher studied it for a while, looking up the features mentally. Then, she pulled out a book that appeared to have the handwriting samples of all the professors at the college. Mohinder's eyes widened. He hadn't known she kept something like that! How easy it would be to copy someone's signature..

"Now, who did you say this friend of yours was? I need more information to narrow down my search query based on the people they regularly interact with."

"Um," Mohinder stammered, not expecting this level of weirdness.

"Or was it actually for you? Don't worry, I don't think anything less of a man who receives pink and red love letters." There was not a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

"Fine," the geneticist admitted, "it was me who received the letter."

"It was _I _who received the letter. Never forget your grammar."

"Okay," he replied, now remembering why English teachers annoyed him. Ms. Riverdale continued her search, flipping the pages and examining them so quickly that Mohinder wondered if she had an ability. He resolved to get her blood sample later.

"Your search has yielded no results," she finally stated. Mohinder sighed in disappointment.

"However, it has been discovered that the writer of the letter is right-handed, and male." Mohinder sighed with even more disappointment. He was a bit excited about having an admirer, but not so much about having a male admirer.

"Alright. Thanks."

"You're welcome," she replied.

Mohinder left the room with his newly-received information. He knew that if Ms. Riverdale hadn't gotten any results, it probably wasn't another professor. He also knew that whoever wrote it was a right-handed male. Could it be a student? Mohinder didn't know of any particularly excited about having him as a teacher. But then again, he was far from a social genius. Eventually, he decided that there had been enough investigation for one day. He would just sleep on it.

-----

The next morning, Mohinder woke up and found another love note on his door. This one was a deep purple, again heart-shaped. It read:

_My love has exploded,  
Like TNT,  
I feel nothing but joy  
When it's you that I see._

It was a bit weirder knowing another guy had written it. Something about the lyrics seemed familiar though. He ran his eyes over the card again. Oh, the place he had heard it was on the tip of his tongue...

On the way in to work, he still couldn't remember. As he taught his classes, he couldn't remember. After class, he had just been one second away from remembering when Dr. Saltaz had shouted,

"Pizza!" Upon this, a crowd of students had rushed past him and he lost his train of thought.

Needless to say, Mohinder was not in the best of moods when he finally got home. Until he saw another note on his door. It was in regular card shape, with only a few hearts pasted on, due to it being noticeable longer.  
_  
Our first impression  
Was not the best,  
But I got to know you  
From our noble quest._

Though at your side for a while,  
You never knew  
The secret I had  
Hidden from you.

I love you, Mohinder.  
We were meant to be.  
Do you feel the same?  
Please agree!

Sylar! Sylar was the one who had written the love notes. It was impossible to miss the blatant references to their road trip together. The word 'TNT' from the last poem had struck a nerve, and now, on the final note, Sylar had practically told him the answer, even though it was signed anonymously. Oh, Mohinder had known that it wasn't a coincidence that Sylar had worn only a towel when they last met!

The Indian ran back down the stairs of his apartment, and sprinted all six blocks to Sylar's place, his power providing extra stamina. When he got there, he kicked down the door.

"Sylar!" he shouted triumphantly.

"Over here," came Sylar's voice from his office. Mohinder nearly leaped over. He peered inside and...

"Boo!" said a voice as a hand grabbed his shoulder.

"Ah!" Mohinder shrieked. He turned to face the serial killer/romancer poet, who was laughing manically.

"But your voice..." the geneticist asked.

"New ventriloquism power," came Sylar's voice from the cuckoo clock beside him, "Got it from some guy named Bruce Anderson. You should have seen your face!"

"Imagine what I can do in conjunction with shapeshifting!" said the ceiling.

"Nevermind that," Mohinder told him, "I know it was you who wrote these." He displayed the three letters.

"What?" Sylar exclaimed, surprised enough to say it with his own mouth. The killer grabbed the letters out of Mohinder's hand. He quickly scanned their contents. A look of sheer disgust formed on his face.

"Why in the world would I write you love letters?"

"Well," Mohinder began, "The third one completely fits you. Plus, I recognize the TNT reference from that thing I'm not supposed to talk about. And by the way, TNT doesn't cause mushroom clouds. I also already knew you could rhyme. In addition, a handwriting analyst told me that it wasn't another professor, and whoever wrote it was a right-handed male."

Sylar sighed. Using telekinesis, he grabbed a pen and paper. He made a point of picking up his _left_ hand, then wrote _I am not right-handed! Or gay._

"But you cut open heads with your right hand!" Mohinder protested.

"Do you think I want my writing hand covered in blood? That would be so messy." He paused.

"And do you really think I would write sappy love poems? I may sing, but I sing evilly."

Then it dawned on Mohinder exactly what he had done.

"Oh. Sorry." Well, he could certainly count this among the most embarrassing moments of his life.

"If you didn't write these, who did?"

Suddenly the two men heard a thunk as someone rushed in the fallen door. It was Matt Parkman. Now it made sense. The 'first impression' wasn't about Sylar killing his dad, it was about Matt and Noah attacking him. The 'noble quest' wasn't searching for people with abilities, it was just caring for Molly. The 'hidden secret' wasn't Sylar being Sylar, it was simply Matt being in love with him.

"Oh Mohinder," he began, "my love for you cannot be contained. So I stand here, unashamed. My heart..." the former police officer then noticed Sylar.

"Momo, what are you doing with _him_? He tried to kill our daughter!"

"What are you doing, Matt?" Mohinder replied, "I thought you were back with your wife. And didn't you just get over Daphne?"

"I personally thought he had a thing with the turtle," Sylar added.

"No!" Matt shouted, "My heart has always been yours. I just never had the courage to tell you. But I never would have thought that you... and... and..." he pointed to Sylar, then burst into tears.

"Oh no, it's not..." Mohinder tried to explain.

"I read your thoughts, Mohinder," Matt sobbed, "I know Sylar loves you. And apparently, you do too, since you came here."

Wait a second. That didn't make any sense at all! Even if, by chance, Mohinder had read exactly the wrong thoughts, he would have already 'known' by the time he arrived. There was no reason for him to be so surprised. Unless Matt was just stupid. Which Mohinder had already known, to an extent, from living with the guy.

He was about to voice the first part of his reasoning, when Mohinder found himself thrown against a wall."

"Both of you!" Sylar shouted, pinning them in such a way that they didn't damage his numerous clocks, "Stop leaping to conclusions! You, idiot." He gestured to Matt.

"As I explained to Mohinder, I am not in love with him. You just make stupid assumptions that arose from your own badly-written love poetry. And you, person with no respect for privacy." Sylar gestured to Mohinder.

"Stop breaking my doors! You know, I was having a perfectly wonderful day today. Then you two come and ruin it. And I was so excited about my new power." He made the last sentence sound as if his voice came from behind them.

"Maybe," Sylar pondered, "I should get some newer powers." He grinned evilly, and his left eye twitched psychotically. Mohinder tried to move out of his telekinetic grip. He couldn't. Super-strength was a surprisingly lame power. Mohinder turned to Matt, who was still bawling his eyes out. No help there. His only hope was to reason with Sylar.

"Sylar you..."

"Ahh!!!" came a scream from the hallway outside. It probably wasn't a good idea for Sylar to have them in plain view of the door, which was knocked down.

While still keeping them up, Sylar telekinetically lifted the door back into place. If someone came to investigate, he could always kill them. Then he turned back to his prey.

"Sylar," Mohinder started again, "I'll pay you back with a whole bag of sugar. And I'll give you twice as much as you need to fully repair the door." Sylar stroked an imaginary goatee, considering the offer.

"No," he said.

"I'll..." Mohinder tried to add.

"But I do like the idea of negotiations," Sylar continued, "and because of the position you are in, I can demand pretty much whatever I want." Mohinder gulped.

"I would like a whole bag... of cinnamon. In one of those one-pound bags. If you can't find one, empty out a flour bag, and put cinnamon in it."

"But that's..." Sylar wagged his finger, telekinetically silencing him and simultaneously reminding Mohinder who was in control.

"Also, because of the embarrassment you've caused me, I want you to dress up and participate in the gay/lesbian pride parade. In the pinkest costume you can find. Then I want you to invite all of your coworkers to watch."

"Anything else?" Mohinder spat.

"Nope, I think that's it."

"What about me?" Matt broke in, using his whiniest voice.

"You would annoy me too much if I tried out ways to annoy you," Sylar told him, "Besides, I really don't want your power anyway. It seems like you can manipulate minds, but only at the cost of your own."

The murderer finally set them down.

"That was fun. Now, go announce your unrequited love for each other, or whatever." Matt looked excited about this, so Mohinder quickly scrambled out the door.

Oh well. Time to buy some cinnamon.

Author's Note...Again: Yeah. So I bashed Matt. That's what he gets for torturing Sylar with nightmares. I wrote the script before the poems, so if there is slight discontinuity, that is why. Also, I have nothing against gay or slash, I just think it would be extremely embarrassing for people who are straight. Please review!


End file.
